


O is for Orzammar

by chileancarmenere



Series: Alistair Alphabet [15]
Category: Dragon Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-27
Updated: 2012-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-31 19:13:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/347464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chileancarmenere/pseuds/chileancarmenere





	O is for Orzammar

The Commons are a busy, commercial area with hundreds of dwarves conducting their business, speaking in a babble that almost drowns out the roar of the lava. None of them have a spare glance for the young Warden leaning on the railings of the Proving bridge.

Alistair, watching the lava bubble, thinks to himself that he wouldn’t have been in such a rush to join the Wardens had he known that this was the severance package. He keeps seeing Duncan’s face in his mind, the careful neutrality in the older Warden’s face as he told him the terrible price a Warden has to pay. As Duncan spoke, Alistair had felt his destiny closing in on him, and had suddenly felt that he couldn’t breathe.

“Lovely, innit?”

“I beg your pardon?” Alistair turns around to see a grizzled old veteran dwarf who looks vaguely familiar. He might have been one of those sitting with them at the Proving yesterday. The dwarf belches and nods at the lava.

“Shiny ‘s a nug’s backside.” “I’m sure,” he mutters, trying very hard not to let that image lodge in his mind.

The dwarf claps him on the back, with surprising strength for someone not four feet tall. “Yer friend’s in Tapster’s. What say we go find ‘im? Yer look like yer could use a drink.”

“That’s…very kind of you.”

“Don’ mention it, Warden. ‘Sides, yer payin’.”

Tapster’s is a hole-in-the-wall joint filled with smoke and smelling of strong drink and vomit. Alistair spots Duncan sitting at a table with two dwarves wearing expensive clothing. The older Warden waves him over. “I see you’ve found Sedar.”

Alistair looks over his shoulder at his dwarf companion, who swipes two ales from a waitress’s tray. “Aye, ‘e was lookin’ at the lava like ‘e might of thrown ‘isself in. Thort ‘e could use a drink instead.”

“What’s this?” Alistair peers down at his ale. It has a gray-green tinge, and small flecks of white cling to the sides.

“Lichen ale.” Sedar takes a deep pull from his mug and sighs with content. Alistair gingerly sips at his, and retches. If someone ever juiced moldy tree bark, he imagines it would taste like this.

All three dwarves watch him with amusement. Alistair can barely gasp out “Umm…it’s different.” Duncan wordlessly hands him a mug of surface ale, which he downs in one gulp to get rid of the taste.

Several hours and three mugs later, Duncan supports him as they totter out of Tapster’s. The hissing roar of the lava is unbearably loud in his ears and he keeps shaking his head insistently. This strikes him as funny, and he starts to giggle.

As they make their way back to their lodgings in the Diamond Quarter, a malevolent whisper curls in their ears. Alistair pauses and throws his head up like a bloodhound on the scent, and Duncan stiffens. To their left, steps lead down to a dark tunnel, and although Alistair has not been explicitly told where it leads, he knows. The summons, keening in his head like a poorly-tuned lute, beckons him down. The darkspawn hiss in his mind and with every heartbeat, their call pulses through his blood. Unwillingly, he takes one step and then another towards the gaping mouth of the Deep Roads.

“Come on,” Duncan says brusquely, pulling him away and up towards the brightly lit quarter. Alistair comes reluctantly, still feeling that unnatural pull.


End file.
